


A Hagraven's Mark

by AthenaPantheon



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Dragonborn | Dovahkiin in Thedas (Dragon Age), F/F, F/M, M/M, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Multi, The Dragonborn is a Good Mom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2020-08-13 05:35:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20169004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AthenaPantheon/pseuds/AthenaPantheon
Summary: Gruumsha gra-Dushnikh was supposed to be retired.She had killed the World-Eater, nearly destroyed the Stormcloak rebellion on her own, and helped Paarthurnax teach the dragons the Way of the Voice. Each time she tried to settle down, something else happened.On what was supposed to be a simple getaway, the Dovahkiin finds an Elder Scroll she's never heard of before. Foolishly, she opens it and finds herself in an entirely different world. Thedas.Now, it is up to her to lead the Inquisition and save another world from certain doom.





	1. The Elder Scroll

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fanfiction I've written in awhile. I hope I do all these characters justice. If there is any constructive criticism, I'm willing to take it. Enjoy!

"So, this is your idea of a vacation?"

A tall woman, standing at over six feet, limped over to a fallen column. Her calloused palm was pressed to her side, trying to keep herself from bleeding too much. She huffed as she slowly sat down; the pain made her wince. Ahead of her was a shorter man. The two of them both carried bags over their shoulders, hers being the bigger one. The man held his soft hand out and a small orb materialized above it. 

The orb flickered and then lit up, illuminating the two friends. The man had long, black hair tied back in a ponytail, a large nose, thin lips, and brown skin. His grey eyes flicked between the woman and her wound. A finely trimmed goatee accented his chin. He was dressed in nice orange robes and had a dagger strapped to his hip. He obviously cared about his appearance, and would probably be fussing about his dirty face had the woman not been injured. 

The woman had even darker hair, which was styled in dreadlocks. Some fell into her face, while most cascaded down her toned back like a waterfall. Her skin was a dark green, with bits of yellow in some places. The "whites of her eyes" were nonexistent and were instead a blood-red color, and her irises were a shocking black. Twin, stubby tusks protruded out from her lips. Her mouth was a bit too wide for her face, and her lower lip stuck out slightly. Her nose was large at the base. A scar ran across her face; three marks, that looked to be caused by claws. They certainly didn't make her any prettier. 

"Vacation? What better place to go than some ruins," he grinned. The Imperial, named Marcurio, walked closer to her, the orb of light following. "Are you alright? That Falmer got you pretty good back there." His playful tone quickly changed to one of concern. The orc shrugged her shoulders and bit back a hiss of pain. 

"Yeah. Those bastards are unbelievably stupid, but they know their way around a blade. I should've been watching my back more." She glanced down at her right side and shook her head. Her hand was already sticky with red, and she groaned. "Do you have any health potions left?" Gruumsha glanced up at him, furrowing her eyebrows. 

The mage sat down beside her and rifled through his bag, growling when he saw nothing. They were both so exhausted, and he didn't have it in him to heal her himself. He did, however, pull out two rations and hand one to her. "No. We have to do this the hard way and stitch you up." 

"Guess this needs to come off. Make yourself useful and help me." The two of them began to unstrap her chest plate. He slipped it over her head and winced when he saw the blood under her tunic. He poked at the stab wound and she hissed, slapping his hand away. "That hurts," she growled lowly. His eyes glinted mischievously as he pulled out a needle and thread that he usually used for clothing repairs. 

"Stop being a big baby." She worked her tunic off, trying not to hurt herself more than necessary. Marcurio watched her for a few moments, his cheeks heating up. He swallowed roughly and ignored how lovely she looked under the light. He chose to focus on sewing her up instead, which is something he had gotten used to doing. 

Gruumsha winced and balled her hands into fists. She took slow, deep breaths and watched the outskirts of where they sat. Calming breaths was something she was used to. Years before, when she met the Greybeards, Master Arngeir had taught her the importance of controlling her temper. He spoke to her with a calm voice and did his best to soothe her when she became frustrated during training. He and the other masters, including Paarthurnax, transformed her from an angry girl who was quick to attack, to a wise woman who knew how to be a leader. She made a point of visiting them once a month. 

By the time she was brought out of her thoughts, Marcurio had finished. She gave him a lopsided grin and thanked him. She was certainly still in pain, but at least now she wasn't going to bleed everywhere. She pulled her tunic back on and re-equipped her chest plate. Marcurio silently sat next to her, their shoulders touching. Well, it was more like his shoulder against her bicep, but it didn't exactly matter. The orc woman unwrapped her food and immediately dug in, the hours of fighting making her hungry. 

He tried not to laugh as she finished it all in a few minutes, leaving crumbs around her mouth. The mage silently took a bite of his own food, taking comfort in knowing she was beside him. They sat there for a little longer, trying to relax and get their energy back. When he finished, they stood and grabbed their bags. Gruumsha set her large hand on his shoulder and looked him in the eye.

"Does that mean you're my official healer now?"

He couldn't hold back the chuckle that escaped him. "It beats being your pack mule, my friend." 

She joined him in laughter and took his hand in hers, giving it a squeeze. He squeezed back and felt slightly disappointed when she let go. She walked ahead of him, and the mage admired her in the light once more before making it disappear. 

They walked in relative silence for a bit, only really speaking to warn each other or comment on something. The silence was comfortable for them. Well, Gruumsha, at least. Marcurio often filled the silence on their journeys for his own comfort but knew better than to make noise in a Dwemer ruin. As they walked, they picked up items of value and placed it in a third bag. One of their traditions was to pool together resources, then split the money once everything was sold. He definitely liked it that way, as it tended to pay well. 

After fighting through even more Falmer, Dwemer creations, traps, and various puzzles, they made it to a large door. The door as nearly three times the orc's height, and about twice as wide as she was tall. It looked gold in the low light, but Marcurio knew it was most likely just painted. He could see some chips in the door that backed up his theory. Engravings marked the door from top to bottom. It looked mechanical, much like the rest of the ruin's architecture. Gruumsha pushed at the door, but it didn't budge. She waved Marcurio over and put her right shoulder on the door, while Marcurio put his left. She held his gaze for half a heartbeat before nodding. They each took a step back and then slammed into the door, making a loud echo in the hallway. She winced, but they continued. Slam after slam, they threw their bodies into the door. A few tries later, it flung open with a bang, and sent them sprawling to the floor. Marcurio glanced up and immediately scowled. "Great, another one of these," he mumbled as he stood, his companion following suit. Gruumsha elbowed him lightly and he grunted, glaring at the back of her head. "Rude." They walked up the ramp, entranced by the light it made. They had seen many like it, but it was always a bit breathtaking. They got into formation; Marcurio standing underneath the mirrors to move them with his ice and fire, while the orc woman took her place at the top with the buttons. 

They slowly–almost painstakingly so–turned the mirrors and rotated the machine so everything lined up correctly. It took them much longer than it normally would have, but they were both exhausted. When everything was in place, they let out a sigh of relief. Gruumsha walked down to the center, where a box was lowering. As she passed her friend, she gave him a pat on the back, which almost made him lose his balance. 

A box lowered towards her. Like the door, it was a golden color and had intricate designs carved into it. It was about the length of her forearm, and as wide as Marcurio's foot. Gruumsha set her greatsword down and leaned on it, it's hilt digging into her hip. She took the box in her hand and looked it over. A latch was on one side, and she quickly released and opened it. The inside of the box was just as grand, and it was lined with a soft red fabric. It was wonderfully preserved for something so old. 

Inside the box was a floor of old coins and an odd-looking scroll. "Here," she grunted, scooping up the coins and handing it to her friend. "I think this is an Elder Scroll." She took the scroll in her hands and tossed the box over her shoulder, making it clatter. Marcurio huffed and walked over to their bags, which they had set on the far wall near the ramp they climbed. He kneeled down and put the coins in their shared bag before standing. 

"Well, whatever you do, be careful. You've experienced how powerful they are before. Don't do anything I wouldn't." That emitted a chuckle from the orc. He looked away for a moment to study the walls, intrigued by the architecture. The Dwemer certainly knew what they were doing. 

"I think it sa–" Something clattered to the ground and he tore his eyes from the wall. 

"Says what?" He turned and his eyebrows immediately furrowed. Her sword lay on the ground, abandoned, and she no longer stood there. 

The Dragonborn was gone. 


	2. The Conclave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas loses his orb, and meets an angry Seeker. Something falls from a Rift.

A long leg stepped over some rubble, and a bare foot stepped into some ash. An elf stood in the midst of chaos. He scrunched up his nose in disgust as the smell of charred bodies hit him again. He folded his arms behind his back and slowly turned his head. It seemed he was looking for something. He saw something dark and round, and his heart skipped a beat. Was that it? He quickly moved over to the item and grabbed it, sneering when all he saw was a goblet.  _ How could it not be here? _

"You there!" He froze as a brash voice broke out, and there was the sound of a sword being drawn. His hands slowly lit up with frost, ready to attack if need be. "Turn around; slowly." He did as he was told, though he wasn't happy about it. The elf rose to his feet and held his palms up, trying to show his good faith. He shuffled to turn towards the voice and was surprised to see a Seeker. She had short hair, and a braid wrapped around her head. Beside her stood a dwarf, who looked like he'd rather be somewhere else. "Why are you here?" 

He racked his brain for a proper excuse. An elven apostate going through the ruins of a building that recently exploded? Even he had to admit it was suspicious. He'd rather avoid being imprisoned or executed just yet. "I am looking for survivors," he explained quickly. "I am a healer. My camp was not far from here when I heard the explosion." He eyed the woman curiously. "Do you know what happened here?"

She shook her head, glancing up at the large hole in the sky. "No," she said a bit quietly. She cleared her voice and it returned to it's louder tone. "Who are you, apostate?" She gestured to the staff strapped to his back. 

"My name is Solas. And you are?"

"I am–"

"Seeker Pentaghast!" 

She was cut off by a young scout, who was running towards them. The scout was human and a male. He looked beyond terrified, with his face pale and clammy. He stopped in front of the woman, his chest heaving as he tried to breathe. 

"S-Seeker! Another rift opened on the other side of the temple! Someone stepped out of it and fell to the ground!"

"'Stepped out?'" She repeated, furrowing her brows. She glanced at the elf and scowled slightly, obviously suspicious of him still. "Take me there." Without another word, the two ran off, leaving the dwarf and elf to follow.

* * *

Solas strolled down the steps to the dungeon, some soldiers and the local apothecary following behind. The Seeker and her redheaded friend already stood in the room, where a cot had been set up. He calmly took a place at their sides, watching the soldiers bring the strange creature down on a stretcher. They rolled it onto the cot, and Adan knelt down. The elf turned to Cassandra, a neutral look on his face. 

"Get it as stable as you can," she ordered, her normal scowl on her face. "Try to figure out what it is. We need to know why it was at the temple." 

He nodded, glancing at the creature's left hand. "That mark on their hand reflects the Breach." He turned back to her and folded his arms behind his back, standing tall. "Perhaps they are connected. It might be the key to closing the Breach. I will try to keep it alive until it wakes, then we can convince it to help us." 

The Seeker gave a nod and turned on her heel, walking out with her head high. The other woman followed, along with the guards, and then it was only Solas and Adan. The elf slowly circled the creature, like a wolf studying its prey. The irony almost made him chuckle, but he suppressed it. "It's bleeding," he noted as he stood at its right side. 

"Won't be able to do nothin' with this armor on," the other grunted, taking out his dagger. Solas quirked a brow until Adan spoke again. "Help me cut the straps. I'm not killing it just yet." As they worked, they tossed the golden armor to the side. The dungeon was becoming awfully loud, but he knew that silencing runes had been placed. Soon, they had stripped it to what seemed to be its undergarments. 

"A woman?" The elf tilted his head slightly. Underneath all the armor, the creature certainly had a feminine shape, despite how muscular it was. Plus, it was wearing a breastband. His eyes trailed it–no,  _ her _ – from head to toe. He had never seen anything like her; green skin and tusks. She could be qunari, but he had never heard of a qunari like her. 

"I'll be damned." Adan paused, looking over at the apostate. "Is she a demon?" 

Solas shook his head. "I don't believe she is. Strange, definitely, but no demon." A particularly large scar caught his eye, and he found himself intrigued. "Do you see that?" He asked, gesturing to her torso. "It looks like–" 

"A bite mark?" The human finished, raising an eyebrow. "A really big one. Too long to be a bear." He grunted and shook his head. "Not the point. I'll sew 'er up, you handle her mark." 

Solas did not argue. 

That night, Solas explored the Fade looking for her, hoping to get some answers. He wandered for a bit, and eventually found the mark. Its owner was not attached to it, as he hoped. That only left him with more questions. So, he left that area of the Fade in search of Wisdom. He had many things to say. 

* * *

Gruumsha awoke with a pounding headache. She groaned, feeling worse than the time she drank with Sanguine. The large woman moved to sit up but found herself unable to her. She slowly opened her eyes and looked around, feeling anxious. She seemed to be in some sort of dungeon. That was something she was used to. A guard in the corner looked over at her, and she opened her mouth to speak. 

Before she could say anything, he screamed and ran off. She growled and threw her head against the cot. A strange light caught her eye and she looked down at her hand. Her blood ran cold as she stared at the green mark on her hand. It glowed and danced, but it also hurt. Each second she was becoming more aware of how much it hurt. 

A few pairs of shoes echoed against the floor of the dungeon, causing Gruumsha to look away from her hand. Two women, and the guard from before, emerged. The brunette glared and immediately began yelling at her. The words sounded strange, and she furrowed her eyebrows. If only Marcurio was with her. He had learned a spell used to comprehend languages during their journeys together. Wait. 

_ Marcurio.  _

She tried to sit up, the leather holding her down groaning as it tried to hold her in place. Her head whipped around as she tried to find her orange-robed friend. She vaguely heard the sound of a sword unsheathing and turned to glare at the woman. "Where is he!?" She bellowed, rage building up in her chest. "What have you done with him? If you hurt him I swear to Malacath–" 

The women turned to each other, confused looks on their faces. It became obvious they couldn't understand what she was saying. She laid back and bared her teeth. Her fists clenched and she practically shook with anger. The orc forced in a few deep breaths, squeezing her eyes shut. She gasped for air and slowly let it out, trying to ignore the pounding in her ears. 

_ Relax, _ she thought.  _ Marcurio knows what he's doing. He'll be safe. _ When she opened her eyes again, the women were staring at her. She rolled her dark eyes and held back a sneer. "Release me." She practically ordered, hoping her tone would get through to them. The mean-looking woman walked forward and spoke in a rough tone; most likely discouraging her from trying anything. 

The guard undid the leather binds holding her to the cot, and Gruumsha slowly sat up. She held her side and winced, swinging her feet off the bed. Within seconds, a pair of shackles went around her wrists. Gruumsha growled but said nothing. Making sure the woman wouldn't immediately skewer her, she stood. She glanced down to find herself in new clothes. The only problem was that her armor, along with all of her gear, was gone. 

The woman pushed her forward, and up the stairs. As they reached the top, a soldier opened the door for them. The angry lady grabbed her green arm and forcefully led her down the large hall. Gruumsha kept her head up high and did her best to stay calm. People in strange clothing stared at her as she passed, but she ignored it. She was used to strange looks. 

More guards opened the large doors, and she saw the light. She blinked as they stepped outside and scanned the area. It didn't look like any Hold she was familiar with, and it certainly wasn't a bandit camp. A sudden pain flared in her hand and her knees buckled, but she caught herself before she hit the ground. The woman, who definitely looked like an Imperial in the light, steadied her. She grabbed her hand and yanked it up, saying something the orc did not understand. 

She pointed to a large hole in the sky Gruumsha had not seen. Her shoulders slowly slumped, and she came to the realization they blamed her. The mark was identical to the one in the sky. The dirty looks and fearful attitude all made sense, though they didn't explain why nobody spoke Cryodiilic. The Imperial woman spoke a few words and released her. 

She rubbed her wrists and gave the woman a wary look.  _ What is she planning?  _ She looked at her like she was expecting an answer, but she was unable to give one. The brunette grabbed her arm and pointed at the sky, then at her. She tilted her head, confused. Then, it hit her. 

They wanted her to deal with it. 


	3. Brave New World

The pain in her hand was next to unbearable. 

Her palm ached and tingled as if one thousand needles were pricking her at once. She had collapsed sometime after they left the small village when it proved to be too much. Gruumsha sat on her knees, clutching her hand to her chest, as the pain hit her in waves. The Imperial woman who brought her there placed a gloved hand on her shoulder. She heard her speak, but still had no idea what she was saying. The woman helped her to her feet, and they continued moving. 

It was cold outside, though not as cold as Winterhold, and Gruumsha found herself thankful that her captors dressed her warmly. Before they left the village, the woman freed her from the shackles but made it obvious she would kill her if she tried anything. The orc rubbed her hands on her arms, trying to warm herself up. The Imperial had long gone quiet, knowing she wouldn't answer. She glanced at the sky and frowned; what in Oblivion could have made something like  _ that _ ?

As they passed onto a bridge, Gruumsha kept her eyes ahead of her. She searched the faces of everyone, dead or alive. She was unsure if she was to be thankful or upset she didn't recognize anyone. Out of her peripheral vision, she spotted something approaching from the sky. Within seconds, the green projectile hit the bridge they were on, causing it to collapse. 

Gruumsha hit the ground with a grunt, pain shooting through her again as the mark on her hand flared up. The Imperial shouted an order–probably telling her to stand–and shot up. She grabbed her sword and shield, and flung herself at what seemed to be a sick form of daedra. The large woman scrambled to her feet and looked around for a weapon. Close to the rubble was a great axe. It didn't seem to be anything special, but it would do. 

The orc hurried over to it and picked it up. She ignored the pain in her hand and raced towards the daedra coming her way. She swung the axe and chopped off its left arm in one swoop; it hissed and struck her in retaliation. She rose her weapon again and it came down on the creature's head. She tore the axe free and glanced at the Imperial, who had finished off her own attacker. The woman growled and hurried over, pointing her sword at Gruumsha's throat. 

In a normal circumstance, she wouldn't hesitate to kill her for the threatening act. She bit the inside of her cheek and slowly lowered her axe. She then raised her palms up and gave her an unamused look. All that mattered right now was finding Marcurio, and an untimely death would certainly get in the way. The woman stepped back and gave her a look. Her eyebrows furrowed together and her small nose scrunched up, as if she was thinking. She groaned and sheathed her sword. 

The Imperial knelt down, but it was obvious she was still watching the other woman. She scooped up the axe and straightened to her full height. She thrust the weapon into her hands and nodded once.  _ So, she trusts me to watch her back,  _ Gruumsha mused in her head. She waved her hand, gesturing for her to lead the way. 

* * *

The two continued on foot for about half an hour, fighting the daedra that popped up. The shieldmaiden proved to be a useful companion. They worked together fairly well for not being able to communicate. Once in a while, her companion would try to speak to her but quickly quieted herself. Gruumsha did not humor her, preferring to stay silent entirely, aside from the occasional battle cry. Soon, they came across the familiar sounds of fighting. 

Gruumsha rushed up the hill, fearing it might be the mage she was separated from. Ahead of her, some soldiers and two other men were fighting off demons. To the right was what seemed to be a tear in reality. It crackled and danced much like the mark on her hand. She tightened her jaw as an odd feeling crawled up her back, making her shiver. Without wasting another second, she leapt off the small drop and gave a fearsome battle cry. 

Gruumsha spun around the battlefield, whirling her axe in the air above her. She slashed and hacked, trying her best to incapacitate her enemies. She was already getting fatigued from battle, and the Imperial's healing potions did little to keep her on her feet. Behind her, a young-sounding man squeaked and slashed across her back with his sword. She growled lowly and spun on him, giving him a dirty look. He shrunk in fear at her look and cowered. Pathetic. Next to them, a clawed hand swung at the boy.

She caught the hand by the wrist and sneered, turning away from the lad. Had she not stepped in, the claws surely would have ripped his armor to shreds. She shoved it back using the handle of her axe, then chopped off its head. A bolt of ice flew past her shoulder, and killed the last of the creatures. Her head immediately shot up, her chest tightening. Was it possible? 

All the hope flooded from her chest when she saw it was an Altmer. A very  _ pale _ Altmer, at that. He beckoned her over and she scowled, but obliged. He took her hand and pointed it towards the tear. Her left arm tensed up and she bared her teeth as the pain swept through her. Her fingers twitched and she gritted her teeth to hold back a cry. Green energy shot from her palm and connected with the tear, causing another wave of pain. It felt like her hand was on fire.

As soon as it started, the pain stopped. She glanced upwards and let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. Her shoulders slumped as all her muscles relaxed, and the pain finally went away. Her knees buckled out from underneath her, and she would've fallen had it not been for the two pairs of hands balancing hers. A soothing voice spoke to her, and she growled. She absolutely hated feeling so weak. 

She pushed away from whoever was holding her, and was surprised to see it was the shieldmaiden and Altmer. About a foot away, a short man stood. She quirked a brow, but not at his height.  _ Why was he showing his chest hair so much?  _ She vaguely heard the three exchanging words, but chose to instead focus on the mark on her hand. It was far from gone, and still gave a dull ache, but it no longer pained her. Not yet, anyway. She figured it would come back at some point. 

A hand touched her shoulder, and she jumped, tensing up. She glared at the Imperial, who was touching her. The Altmer took a step forward and raised his hands. His palms glowed a light blue as he pointed them towards her. She sneered and tried to step back, but the woman kept her from moving. The magic caressed her like a loving parent, and she found herself relaxing. Her eyes closed and she let out a slow breath. 

"Can you understand me now?" 

Her eyes shot open as she was startled. She narrowed her eyes at the elf and ripped her arm away from the woman, stepping back. "How di–"

"Finally," the Imperial growled, folding her arms across her chest. 

"Well, would you look at that! She speaks." The small man shot her a grin as he placed his hands on his hips. 

"Hush," the elf gently scolded his comrades. "Give her a moment to adjust." He turned back to the orc. "I used a spell to help you comprehend our tongue. It should work for a few hours." He smiled softly. "Communication isn't exactly effective when you have no languages in common." 

Gruumsha took a deep breath and ran a hand down her face, doing her best to relax. The soldiers had left by this point, leaving the four of them standing in the ruined courtyard alone. She took another breath before she looked back at the trio. 

"You okay now?" the chest hair guy asked. When Gruumsha nodded, he continued. "Good. That was a helluva fight you put up back there." She muttered a half-hearted thanks and looked away. 

"Who are you?" She could practically feel the venom in the shieldmaiden's voice. She took another deep breath and stood up straighter. 

"My name is Gruumsha gra-Dushnikh." As the woman began to speak, she held up a hand. "No. My turn to ask questions, shieldmaiden." She slowly turned her head, examining the men and woman. "Who are  _ you _ ?" 

"Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast," the Imperial replied. A disgusted look returned to her face, and Gruumsha had to resist rolling her eyes. Obviously, she wasn't happy with the prisoner ordering her around.

"Varric Tethras, and this here is Bianca." He rolled a shoulder, gesturing to a strange and alien device. It was a long stock of wood that looked like it'd work better as the haft of an axe. At the front, was two metal wings that almost resembled a bow, with a string to match. She pursed her lips and wracked her brain for information about it, but found nothing. She had never seen anything like it. 

"And I am Solas." 

Gruumsha grunted and massaged her palm with a hand. The tingling had already returned. "Alright, where am I?"

"You are outside of Haven," Solas answered.

She blinked at him. "And where is that?"

They each looked at her as if she had said something ridiculous, such as, "In my free time, I eat smelly boots!" Cassandra uncrossed her arms and shifted her feet. She scrunched up her nose as her dark eyes bored into Gruumsha's. 

"Haven is in the Frostback Mountains, near the Temple of Sacred Ashes." 

"Frostbacks?" She scratched the side of her head and narrowed her eyes. "Is that in Cryodiil?" 

"Cryodiil? I–" Cassandra growled and ignored her. "That is not the point right now. The temple exploded.  _ You _ ," she drawled, jabbing her finger at the larger woman, "are the only survivor. A hole was torn into the sky, and it matches the mark on your hand." 

Before the orc could speak, Solas cut in. "I theorized your mark could close the rifts left in the Breach's wake." He gestured to the area behind him and gave a small smile, though it did not reach his eyes. "It seems I was correct." 

"Let's hope it works on the big one," Varric said, glancing at the sky. "Speaking of which, we should get going. We don't know how much time we have left." 

" _ We? _ Your help is appreciated, Varric, but–" 

"But nothing." The trio looked over at Gruumsha as she scoffed. "If the small man wishes to go, he goes. As he said, we should leave." Varric grinned and gave the Seeker a look. Solas stayed silent. Cassandra huffed and nodded, quietly admitting that she was being ridiculous. 

"This way, then." 

* * *

"So, Gruumsha…" Varric spoke, grabbing everyone's attention. The woman in question glanced back, quirking an eyebrow. Since they had left, the group only spoke to her during battle. The silence put her on edge, which was unusual given her quiet nature. "If you don't mind me asking, what exactly  _ are _ you?" 

"I could ask the same to you, Varric." He only chuckled, waiting for her answer. "I am an orsimer, but you may refer to me as an orc. I've heard it's easier to remember. Plus, it sounds better in an insult." 

"An orc?" Solas pursed his lips and tilted his head. "I have never heard of such a thing."

"Truly?" She watched him with curiosity as he nodded once. She turned away from them as anxiety crept through her. "We are not large in number, but we are widespread. You must know what we are." 

"I'm afraid not. There is nothing in Thedas with skin such as yours. Nothing sentient, anyways." The mage tapped his chin. 

"Thedas? I thought we were in the Frostbacks."

"The Frostbacks are a mountain range in Thedas," Solas answered. "It acts a border between Orlais and Fereldan."

"So this isn't Cryodiil then?" 

"No." 

"Morrowind? Hammerfell? Elsweyr? Skyrim?" 

"No…" He gave her an odd look and furrowed his brows. "I've never heard of a place with those names." 

"Seriously!?" She stopped in her tracks and turned to the mage. "Have you been living under a rock all your life?" 

He drew himself back, as if he had been slapped, and scowled. "No, I have not! Lower your voice." 

She took a deep breath and turned away from them, trying to calm down. Where in Oblivion was she? Had she been sent forward in time where everything was renamed? That must be the only logical answer. But if that were true, why did no one recognize the old names? 

She noticed the group had gone silent, most likely taken aback from her outburst. She ran her fingers through her hair and rolled her shoulders. Gruumsha looked back at them and sighed. "Forgive me. I am… under a bit of stress. You will have to show me exactly where I am once this is over." 

"Hah! I think you of all people can say that." Varric's grin slowly fell as he lowered his tone to a softer one. "Do you really not remember what happened?" 

Gruumsha didn't answer right away, instead using the time to think of what she did know. She shook her head. "The last thing I remember is being with…" she trailed off, and her tone quickly became grim. "No. I don't know what happened." 

"Spin a story! It's what I would do." 

"Of course you would," the Seeker growled. 

"Hey, I've found it's one of the best ways to avoid execution." 

Cassandra audibly rolled her eyes at that, but let the conversation drop. A few moments later, Gruumsha decided to speak again. "Varric, you never answered me. What are you?" 

She heard someone chuckle at her and immediately growled. "Was that a serious question?" she heard Solas asked. 

"Yes." 

Varric whistled lowly, "Shit. You really must've hit your head hard." He paused for a moment. "I'm a dwarf."

Now it was her turn to be confused. Dwarves, or as she knew them, Dwemer, disappeared hundreds of years ago. She paused for a moment, and thought about another question she has. "What is that device you use?" 

"This?" Varric asked, gesturing to his weapon. "This is a crossbow." 

"Crossbow? I've never seen one." 

"Well, Bianca  _ is _ one of a kind." 

She opened her mouth to ask more, but was cut off by a scream of terror. The group began to run up the hill, and they came across yet another rift. Gruumsha swung her axe at the closest daedra (though her companions called them demons). They fought for what seemed like hours, but it was only a few minutes. 

"Seal it, quickly!" 

She thrust her hand up towards the rift, and clenched her jaw as the pain came in waves. She stood her ground, however, and continued trying to close the hole. It slowly inched back into place, then suddenly snapped. She let out a ragged breath and held her hand close to her chest. She glanced over at the elf who came to stand at her side. 

"Sealed as before. Well done." 

She nodded once and stood straight, listening as Cassandra yelled for the soldiers to open the gates. She strolled through them with her chin high. The Seeker lead them to a table, where the redhead from before stood arguing with a man in robes. The man glanced in their direction and sneered. 

"Ah, here they come." The redhead attempted to introduce them, but he cut her off. "I order you to take this– this  _ demon _ away from here and execute it!" 

"Order  _ me _ ?" Cassandra and the man began to argue, and the orc rolled her eyes. She hated men, or anyone for that matter, that acted like they were better than someone because of their position. 

"Don't you think we should focus on the hole in the sky?" she snapped, glaring at the man. 

"The hole in the sky is only there because of you, demon!" Cassandra took a step forward, and he sighed. "Call a retreat. It's too late. You won't be able to reach the Temple, even with all your soldiers." 

The redhead joined in at this point, offering another tactic to Cassandra. The three were arguing like children; there was no point to this.  _ We should leave before it really is too late.  _ Her thoughts were backed up by the Breach expanding. She groaned as her other hand held her wrist steady. She shot a harsh look at the whimpering man and looked between the women. 

"We charge now. I'm not dying today, and it's certainly not going to happen while I'm sitting here waiting for you three to take action!" Her voice held no venom, but it was certainly commanding. She shook her hand out and let out a breath. "Let's move." 

* * *

The smell of charred corpses was something Gruumsha would never get used to. She cringed as they walked forward, glancing at each body they passed. She clenched and unclenched her clammy fists as they walked. The woman noticed Cassandra was doing the same, but chose to remain silent. 

"The Temple of Sacred Ashes," Solas breathed.

"This is where you fell out of the rift." The Seeker glanced over at her and pursed her lips. "They say a woman was behind you. No one knows who she was." 

She slowly wandered inside the temple, watching the sky. Her jaw almost dropped; they expected her to close something that high up? Varric seemed to agree with her, muttering something about its height. Her ears twitched and she turned, holding her axe high. She relaxed, seeing only the woman and a handful of soldiers coming up behind them. 

"You're here! Thank the Maker." 

Cassandra gave her an order to secure the area, and then glimpsed at the orc. "Are you ready?" 

"I have to be. As you said earlier, this may be our only chance." 

Solas nodded in approval and added, "This rift was the first, so it is–must be–the key to closing the Breach." The Seeker gave a quick order to move out, and they pressed on. 

_ "Now is the hour of our victory... Bring forth the sacrifice."  _

Cassandra glanced around, trying to find the source of the voice. She seemed unnerved, which was understandable. "What are we hearing?" 

"At a guess?" Solas blinked a few times, watching the strange magic of the rift dance. "The person who created the Breach." 

Gruumsha jogged forward, holding the axe in her hand as if it were a simple woodcutter's. Her ears twitched again as she began to hear an odd hum. Her pace faltered. The woman slowed as they approached a glowing red stone. Varric began to speak with the Seeker, but she couldn't make out what he was saying. Instead, she inched forward until she was in a close enough range to touch the stone. As she reached out, a strong hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. 

"Didn't you hear me?" Varric scolded with a frown. "I said don't touch the stuff." She gazed at the stone, entranced by the humming. It oddly sounded like the singing of one of her sisters back in Dushnikh Yal Stronghold. She cleared her throat and stepped back, forcing the thought from her mind. She needed to focus. 

"I apologize." Without expanding, Gruumsha continued on. She shot one last look at the stone as she left, intrigued. She would have to ask Varric about it later. 

_ "Keep the sacrifice still." _ As they neared the rift, she heard the voice again, and it was obvious the others did as well. 

_ "Someone help me!" _ Another voice echoed, forcing a gasp out of Cassandra. The orc turned towards her and quirked a brow. 

"That was Divine Justinia's voice!" 

They wordlessly began to move faster, concern lacing the Seeker's brow. Gruumsha hurried down a broken ramp and hopped off the side effortlessly. The others followed suit. She strayed closer to the rift, eyeing it with interest. It seemed to crack like broken glass underfoot. Her palm began to glow, and she raised it to stare. 

_ "Someone help me!"  _ The voice called again. 

Gruumsha jumped when she heard her own voice echo throughout the temple. As Cassandra began to speak, the rift flared. Then, a ghostly vision appeared before them. A large, dark entity "stood" before a woman in robes. Clearly, this was the woman the shieldmaiden spoke of. It played through, ending with the entity ordering the death of Gruumsha. 

"You  _ were _ there! Who att–" 

"I've already said I don't remember what happened, woman!" Gruumsha cut off, growling. 

"You!" She turned her attention to Solas. "Explain what we are seeing." 

"The Fade bleeds into this place…" he seemed to ponder something for a moment before he glanced back at the green-skinned woman. "The rift is closed, but not sealed. If you can open it, then you can seal it properly  _ and _ safely. That will, however, attract attention from the other side." She nodded as Cassandra shouted orders at the soldiers, likely readying them for battle. 

Everyone took position, with Gruumsha standing directly in front of the rift, and her companions flanking her. Archers and footsoldiers spanned the walls, drawing their weapons. The orc glanced at Solas, who gave a firm nod, and squared her shoulders. She held out her left and grit her teeth as it, along with the rift, flared up. Green magic shot from her palm and connected with the tear. She focused all her attention on the rift, willing it to expand. 

It seemed to explode, and a green bolt shot from it. It hit the ground and took form as an enormous white beast with many eyes. It bellowed as purple lightning crackled around it. Many gasped and backed away, but Gruumsha stood her ground. "Now!" shouted Cassandra, and the archers loosed their arrows. The demon simply shrugged them off and roared. "It's a Pride demon; stand your ground!"

Gruumsha ran forth and slammed the blade of her axe down into the beast, but it simply reflected off of it's tough armor. She stumbled back a few feet and huffed in frustration. Her attack had done absolutely nothing. She came up behind it as the shieldmaiden and a few soldiers took the front, trying to find a weak point. Finding none, she looked at Cassandra and shouted, "Nothing's working!" 

"Use the mark!" Solas shouted as he shot a bolt of ice into its face, which only proved to anger it more. "Disrupt the rift!" 

She nodded and disengaged, running towards the rift. The orc slid to a stop and let go of her weapon, choosing to hold it with one hand to free her left. The mark connected, and she ignored the pain it caused as best she could. As the rift exploded, the demon fell to its knees. Gruumsha sprinted forward and slammed her body into its side, causing it to fall completely. She hacked off a part of its armor and was about to hit again, when the demon shot her with a ball of electricity. 

She gasped in pain as she hit the dirt a few feet away from the Pride demon. The orc rolled to her side and held her chest, wincing. She staggered to a stand and growled. She was pissed, sure, but she wouldn't let that anger blind her. Not yet. Instead, she went back to the rift. 

The group continued fighting the demon, and many fell to its electrical or physical attacks. At some point, Varric tossed her a potion and she downed it without another thought. Other demons seeped out of the rift, but where quickly destroyed. When the demon fell for the final time, Cassandra chopped off its head. 

She turned to Gruumsha, shoulders heaving as she tried to catch her breath. "Seal it-!" She gasped. "Before more come through." 

The orc took her place in front of the rift, determination on her face. She connected the mark and hissed. The pain quickly overwhelmed her and she fell to her knees, but kept herself steady enough that she could continue closing the enormous tear. A cry of pain slipped past her lips. Suddenly, the rift snapped closed and the blast threw her back. 

Gruumsha sprawled across the ground, her muscles twitching. She let out a broken groan and blinked, her ears ringing loudly. Solas came into view, obvious concern on his face. His lips moved in what was probably curses, but she heard nothing. As Varric and Cassandra began to hover above her, her eyelids became heavy. Within seconds, she was claimed by the darkness of exhaustion. 


	4. Beware, Beware

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcurio searches for help, and Gruumsha has a dream.

“By the Eight, what have I done?” Marcurio held his hands to his face as he paced around the room. “She’s gone! Oh, gods, they’re gonna kill me.” He bit his lower lip and crossed his arms over his chest as he tried to think. So, the Dragonborn had read a strange Elder Scroll, and instead of just going blind or something, she completely disappeared. “What to do, what to do?” Then, an idea popped into his head. “Okay. I’ll just go back to Whiterun, drop her stuff off, and then… Then I’ll…” He grunted and shook his head. “I’ll figure something out. I have to.” 

The mage threw his pack on, then picked her bags up. He didn’t have enough strength or empty space in his arms to carry her sword, so he decided to just leave it. He would get her a new one once he got her back. A doubting part of him whispered _ “if”. _He shook his head, as if he was disagreeing with an actual person. “No, when. I will get her back.” He stepped over the small bump in the floor, and left. 

It took him about two days to make it back to Whiterun. If Gruumsha had gotten a horse like he suggested, he would have been there in half the time. But, with the extra weight and his awful sense of direction, he had to go by foot. He stood before the Whiterun gates and took in a deep breath as they eased open. This was her home, and everyone here knew and loved her. He just hoped that they didn’t bother him, and that he could get out quickly. He kept his pace fast as he walked and prayed to the Eight that no one would suspect anything. 

Marcurio reached to his back pocket, but couldn’t actually reach. If he tried, he would likely drop the bags, and that would create a racket. He slowly bent his knees to gently place the bags on the ground, but before he could, the door opened. His head shot up, and he gave a nervous smile. There stood a small Nord girl, with a bluntly cut bob and piercing blue eyes. She was on the thinner side, but her cheeks had a healthy glow to them. 

“Who are you?”

‘Oh, uh..” He stood quickly and cleared his throat. “Sorry, is this the Lady Dragonborn’s house?” 

“Yes.” The girl frowned and narrowed her eyes at him. “You didn’t answer my question.” 

“Is someone at the door?” Finally, a voice he recognized. Lydia, the Dragonborn’s housecarl, appeared behind the girl. “Oh, it’s you.” The Imperial stuck her head outside and quickly glanced around. “Where’s the Thane?” 

“About that,” the mage gulped. “May I come in?” 

The girl stepped aside as Lydia opened the door farther and allowed him inside. He set down the packs by the door and gave a sigh of relief. He rubbed his aching forearm and turned to Lydia as the door shut. She waved for him to sit down. “Lucia, go play in your room, please.” She sat down and the girl ran up the stairs. Marcurio sat across from the dark-haired woman and swallowed. “So where is she?”

“I don’t know.” He glanced away for a moment but forced himself to look her in the eyes. “You know we were exploring that Dwemer ruin.” Lydia nodded, but said nothing. “We found something there. An Elder Scroll, I think. She read it, and now she’s gone.”

“Dead?”

“No. At least, I don’t think so. But I couldn’t find her anywhere. I keep hoping that she’ll show up, but I don’t think she will.” 

Lydia nodded slowly as she tried to understand. “You need to find her, then.” 

“I know I do, and I will. I just don’t know where to start.” 

“You should look for a Moth Priest,” she suggested after a moment. “Or see the Greybeards. They know about many things, and they might know about this.” 

“Okay. Okay, I can do that.” He let out a deep breath. 

“But before you leave, you should talk to the Companions. They need to know that their Harbinger is gone.” 

“Gods, I didn’t even think about that.” He glanced out the window and up at Jorrvaskr. “Do you think they’ll be angry at me?” 

“Oh, I’m sure of it.” When she saw how the mage tensed up, she added, “But don’t worry about it. As long as Vilkas is there, nothing will happen. He has a head.” 

“Thank you.” Marcurio’s gaze shifted to the room at the top of the stairs. “Is the girl yours?” 

Lydia laughed, as if the concept was absurd. “No, she’s Gruumsha’s. Did she never tell you?” 

“No,” he frowned. He felt hurt that she didn’t. They had traveled together for years, and had stuck to each other’s side through thick and thin. They shared everything. So why hadn’t she shared this? 

The Imperial watched him, curious. “Ask her,” she said, as if reading his mind. “When you find her, ask her. Speaking of which, you should go.” 

“Yes, of course.” He stood and brushed his robes off. “Tell the girl that I’ll bring her back, would you?” Lydia nodded, and Marcurio left.

He quickly walked up the road to the hall of the Companions. He expertly weaved through the small crowd of people. He jogged up the stairs, passing a woman. “What’s the rush?” She remarked. He ignored her, and turned to the right and went up another set of stairs. He stopped in front of the large doors, and breathed in deeply. He held onto the metal handle, and pulled as hard as he could. With some difficulty, the door opened and he slipped in before it closed again. A few heads rose to see him, but quickly turned away. He wasn’t very interesting in their eyes. 

In the corner, a Nord with long, dark hair and face paint was polishing a greatsword. Behind him, a loud redhead was critiquing his methods. “You’re doing it the wrong way, Farkas. Graymane said that you had to do it towards you, not away.” 

“Then you do it,” he grumbled. “If you know how to do it, Aela, then you can sharpen my sword.” He held it up to her, and she recoiled with a smirk. 

“Sorry, can’t. I’m going hunting.” 

Marcurio approached them, and Farkas met his eyes. He scrunched up his nose and sniffed. “You’re that mage that the Harbinger hangs around, aren’t you?” 

“Um, yes.” He tried to push down the fear that he felt rising in him. He vividly remembered the first time he witnessed Gruumsha’s transformation. He could still hear the snapping of her bones and the inhuman growls she made. He also remembered how she had admitted that those in the Circle were like her. He also tried to keep in mind that Farkas was no longer like that, but Aela certainly was. “Is there somewhere private we can speak? All of the Circle, please.” 

Aela and Farkas gave each other a look, and the redhead stood. “Sure. I’ll go get Vilkas.” She gave a quick nod and left, leaving Marcurio with Farkas. 

“We can talk in her room. Come, follow me.” He set his sword down on the bench and led the mage down the stairs. They walked to the end of the hall, and stepped inside her room. The fur coverings on her bed were strewn about, like she had forgotten to make it before they left for their trip. Vilkas and Aela soon joined them. Farkas furrowed his eyebrows in concern, and faced Marcurio. “What happened? She’s not with you, so something obviously happened.” 

He ran through the same explanation he had made earlier to Lydia, and the Circle sat quietly. Halfway through, Aela began to pace like a caged animal. Farkas kept a permanent frown on his face. It seemed that Vilkas was the only one who wasn’t bothered, as his expression was neutral. He nodded throughout, and occasionally asked questions. Otherwise, he was quiet. 

“So, what’s your plan?” Vilkas asked, rubbed his chin. 

“I have to bring her back, somehow. Lydia suggested that I find a Moth Priest.” 

The other man hummed, and thought for a moment. “I have something better in mind.”

* * *

"Are you listening to me, Dovahkiin?" 

Gruumsha glanced up, tearing herself out of her thoughts. She sat cross-legged, and wasn't wearing armor. Simple trousers and a shirt covered her body, and her dreadlocks hung freely. She swept the surrounding area with her eyes and immediately recognized it. High Hrothgar. 

"It was just a dream," she whispered to herself. 

"What was?" She finally focused her eyes on her company. Before her sat Master Arngeir, who had been her mentor for years. Not only that, but he was a friend. She had spent many hours wondering what she would be like if it weren't for him and Paarthunax. 

"I apologize, Master. It was nothing." 

"Then let us continue."

The orc nodded in agreement and rested her hands on her knees, palms facing up. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, allowing for a meditative state to take over. 

"Breathe slowly, Dovahkiin. Allow your breaths to work their way into your body. Feel it in your arms; your legs," Arngeir spoke in a gentle, quiet voice. "Hold it there, and count to five." 

She followed his directions, and pictured the air in her lungs traveling around her body. She felt it work its way into her limbs, and she held her breath. After the five seconds were up, she exhaled slowly and relaxed her muscles.

They continued like that for some time, doing breathing exercises and working out the anger that had built up from her last visit. Then, a light shined in her eye. She shifted, only to immediately be scolded (albeit gently) by Arngeir, telling her not to move. Eventually, the light became too much, and she opened her eyes. 

She tracked the source with her eyes and looked down at her palm. _ No, _ she thought. _ It was only a dream _. The light grew bigger and brighter, and it all but blinded her. She drew her opposite hand up to cover her eyes, and everything went dark. 

She woke with a gasp, and her eyes shot open. The orc blinked a few times and waited for her eyes to adjust to the light. She slowly sat up and swung her legs over the bed. "This is real," she said softly, lips curling into a frown. 

A door creaked open, and a young Bosmer strolled inside. When she spotted her, the smile dropped from her face, and she dropped what she was holding. Gruumsha quickly turned her head to the sound. The elf's mouth hung open as she stared at the woman in front of her. After a heartbeat, she darted out of the room. 

The minutes ticked by as the orc wandered around the room. The bed she slept on was soft, and the covers draped over it were intricately designed. It was much too fancy, and had very little comfort to it. It seemed like it came right out of Solitude. At Jorrvaskr, her bed was mostly covered in animal furs. And she rarely slept at home, so her bedding didn't even matter. 

Shades had been drawn over the windows, and only a small lantern lit the area. It glowed much like her palm, the light of which still danced to unheard music. The ache had, however, subsided, so she couldn't complain much. She continued to circle the room, mentally noting the craftsmanship and worth of the furniture. It was nicer than anything she was used to. 

The door once again opened, and the Altmer she had met before strolled inside. He stepped around the broken box and smiled at the woman. He spoke what she assumed was a greeting, but she yet again couldn't make out the words. Without a thought, he cast his spell over her and his voice became clear. 

"It is good to see you awake. How are you feeling?" 

She sighed and absent-mindedly rubbed the Mark on her palm, which started to tingle. "Fine," she answered shortly. 

Solas hummed and wordlessly took her hand. His hand cooled beyond normal and he held it over the Mark. The chill soothed the already returning ache and she dropped her shoulders. "There. That should keep you comfortable for a few hours." The elf removed his hands, and folded them behind his back.

"Thank you," she said, folding her arms over her chest. She paused and looked around the room once more. "Where are we?" 

“We are back in Haven. The soldiers carried you back after you collapsed.” 

“Haven, right.” She let out a sigh and rubbed her eyes. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Three days,” he replied. “The Seeker convinced Chancellor Roderick to leave you alone for the moment, considering that the Breach has stopped growing. She would like to speak to you, however.” 

She nodded and took in a calming breath. “Alright, I’ll go.” 

“Good.” He moved towards the door, but stopped before he left. “Clothes have been left for you in the wardrobe. Ambassador Josephine asks that you change before you leave.” 

“I will,” she laughed, fondly remembering the time Delphine dressed her up. “Thank you, Solas.” 

“You’re welcome, Herald.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment if you enjoyed this chapter!
> 
> My Tumblr: https://slightly-sad-scribe.tumblr.com/


	5. Missing a Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gruumsha misses her family. Marcurio and Vilkas butt heads.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Months ago, a friend of mine drew a picture of Gruumsha. And well, here it is! The artist can be found on Tumblr at @botiicelli or @it's_wil_art on Instagram!

* * *

As Gruumsha walked through the streets of Haven, she tugged uncomfortably at the clothes the Ambassador had given her. In the wardrobe Solas had pointed to her, Gruumsha found only dresses and leggings. She would have to fix that issue, but until then, she was stuck in the long, tight fabric. She walked side-by-side with the aforementioned elf as she picked and pulled at the clothing. The elf looked at her through his peripheral vision and chuckled softly. 

“Not used to such clothing, I take it?” 

She snorted softly and rolled her shoulders, trying to relax. “Not at all. The last time I dressed up like this, it didn’t go well.” 

“Is that so? I’d be interested in hearing that story.” 

“Maybe another time.” She nodded thanks to a woman who had opened the door to the “Chantry.” Gruumsha strolled down the hallway with her chin high. Her red eyes flicked around the room, taking in all available information. She had been right in her assumption that this was a place of worship. On the wall at the end of the corridor was a large golden statue of a woman. The woman wore a jagged crown and held a sword in her hand. All of the men and women in the temple, who were all human, she noticed, wore white robes with similar jagged symbols on their heads. She made a mental note to ask about their religion later. As they approached the large door underneath the statue, Gruumsha could hear arguing. 

“Have you gone completely mad?” One voice asked. She immediately recognized it as the angry priest she had run into on the field. “She should be taken to Val Royeaux in chains!” 

She decided that would be her cue. The orc woman gave a nod to Solas and pulled open the heavy door. The arguing almost immediately ceased as she made her presence known. Inside, she saw the red-faced rat of a priest, Cassandra, and the redheaded woman from before. 

“Chain her!” The priest exclaimed. “Prepare the prisoner for travel to the capital for trial.” 

“Ignore that, and leave us,” Cassandra butted in, and the guards behind Gruumsha left after closing the door. The orc approached the war table as the priest and shieldmaiden continued to argue. 

“You walk a dangerous line, Seeker.” The priest, Chancellor Roderick as she recalled, sent a nasty sneer her way, despite the fact he was addressing Cassandra. 

“The Breach is stable, but it is still a threat. I will not ignore it.” 

Gruumsha gave a soft scoff and folded her arms across her chest as she looked towards the Chancellor. “I did what I could,” she spoke, keeping her voice level. “It nearly killed me. I’m still a suspect?” 

“You absolutely are.” 

“No, she’s not,” Cassandra argued back, and Gruumsha raised her eyebrows. So, the Seeker believed her story now? 

“Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave,” Leliana chided. “Someone Most Holy did not expect. Perhaps they died with the others, or have allies who yet live.” With the last part, she sent a cautionary glare at the man. 

“ _ I  _ am a suspect?” Chancellor Roderick took a step back as he furrowed his eyebrows. 

“You,” she confirmed, “and many others.” 

“But not that- that demon?”

“She is no demon. But that is beside the point. I heard the voices calling to her in the Temple. The Divine was calling to her to help.”

“So it’s survival,” Roderick continued despite the looks from the women, “that thing on her hand, is all a coincidence?” 

Then, Cassandra said something Gruumsha did not expect. “Providence. The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour.” Roderick’s face twisted up in disgust and he immediately began to protest as Gruumsha thought. 

Her? Sent by their god? It was possible, as the gods she knew often interfered with mortal life. “You’re serious?” She asked with an amused smile. “Well, I should've seen that coming,” she muttered to herself.

“No matter what or who you are, you were who we needed when we needed it.” 

“The Breach remains, and your Mark is still our only hope of closing it,” Leliana added. It seemed the pair agreed on one thing at least: Gruumsha was meant to help him. And, damnit, she could never resist a pretty face or helping people in need. 

“This is not for you to decide.” It looked like Roderick would continue to disagree with them. At that moment, Cassandra slammed a large book onto the table. The book was wrapped in dark leather, and on the front, it bore a symbol. It was an opened eye, with a similar jagged symbol surrounding it. 

“Do you know what this is, Chancellor?” The brunette questioned, jabbing a finger at the book cover. “A writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act.” The Seeker took in a breath and closed her eyes, and when she opened them she turned to look at each of the people in the room. “As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn.” She spun on the priest and marched towards, causing him to back away. “We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order. With or without your approval.” Fury and determination seemed to roll off the woman in waves, but Gruumsha could smell the fear in her. Roderick steeled his face, sent Gruumsha a wary glance, and quickly ducked out of the room. 

Cassandra let out a breath and rubbed the back of her neck anxiously. Leliana moved to stand by her as she examined the book. “This is the Divine’s directive: rebuild the Inquisition of old,” she said in an almost sorrowful tone of voice. “Find those who are willing to stand against the chaos.” The archer shook her head as she looked between the two women. “We aren’t ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and now, no Chantry support.” 

“But we have no choice. We must act now, with you at our side.” Cassandra and Leliana glanced over at the orc expectantly. She took a moment to read their faces before she answered. 

“I’ll do what I can to help,” she decided. A small smile snuck onto Cassandra’s face. The women shook hands, and the deal was done. 

The next few hours were absolute madness. Gruumsha was taken to the small smithy and fitted for armor. Then, Cassandra and the blonde man from the field addressed the community, standing with the orc at their side. They did not bother hiding her appearance, as it would not quell any rumors. Plenty of people had seen her in the few days she had been in Haven, and soon enough all of Thedas would hear of the “green-skinned qunari” that had been declared Andraste’s Herald. After the address had been delivered, she was escorted back to the war room by Cassandra, where she saw some new faces. 

The first to be introduced was Commander Cullen Rutherford. They had briefly seen each other on the field, but did not have time to be introduced. “I’m pleased you survived,” he politely spoke, though Gruumsha was not entirely sure he meant it. Something about him smelled off. He seemed to have some sort of sickness, but when Gruumsha asked, he insisted that he had a small cold. He had the look of a Nord but the softness of an Imperial noble. Aside from a small scar on his lip, his skin was flawless. “Where did you get that armor from?”

“Oh, the armor I was wearing when I…” She paused and cleared her throat. “It was a gift.” That much was true. Kind of. It was a little true. No, it was a lie. She had taken it from an enemy she had downed.

Then, there was Ambassador Josephine Montilyet. Her eyes widened slightly as she looked away from her paper. “My, you are quite… tall.” Her soft brown eyes ran over her body, but stopped on her eyes. Gruumsha shifted uncomfortably as their eyes met, and she almost instantly looked away. “I have many questions, but they will have to wait. So tell me, my lady, is the clothing to your liking?” Josephine had caught on to her uneasiness and looked back to her paper, which Gruumsha was thankful for. 

“It’s a bit tighter than I’m used to,” she started as she looked down at the fabric. “I don’t really wear dresses. They’re not good for movement.” She paused for a mere moment then continued. “If possible, could I get the dresses traded in for trousers and shirts?” 

“Of course. I’ll have my artisans on it right away, Herald. Until then, we can give you some qunari clothes. They should be in your size.” 

“Thank you,” she replied softly, dipping her head. 

“Now, onto business.” Leliana folded her arms behind her back and shifted her weight. “A Chantry cleric by the name of Mother Giselle has asked to speak to you. She is located in the Hinterlands. The journey will take a few days, so we need to prepare.”

“Look for other opportunities to expand the Inquisition’s influence while you’re there,” Cullen added, and Gruumsha nodded. As the war meeting came to a close, Gruumsha approached Cassandra. The Seeker looked up to her expectantly as the orc began to speak. 

“Did I have anything on me when you found me?” 

“Yes, though your armor was ruined. I will have a servant fetch your bag.” 

A few minutes later, the elven girl from before came with a torn backpack. Gruumsha gave her a small thanks and headed out of the Chantry. She stopped by her cabin and switched out her clothes. The trousers were a bit tight on her calves and longer than they should’ve been. Gruumsha rolled them up a little so that she would not step on the ends. The shirt was practically perfect. It was loose-fitting, and it was flexible enough to suit her needs. However, like the pants, she had to roll up the sleeves. She laced her boots back up and then sat on her bed, pulling out her bag. 

It had obviously been rummaged through, and it seemed the snooper hadn’t tried to hide it. That was good, at least. Gruumsha pulled little things out of the bag, noting the significance. There was an ebony dagger that she had meant to give to Marcurio, a book she was to give to Vilkas, and a wolf pendant. She held the pendant in her hand and barked out a short laugh. Farkas would love it, she was sure, even if he wasn’t one to wear jewelry. She set aside many more things, all of which she planned to give to her friends or sell. It was coming up on the eighth year since she had returned to Skyrim and met all the people she called family. She wanted to celebrate it with them. A sharp pang of sadness hit her at the thought of never seeing them again, but she quickly shoved it in the back of her mind. She found a few gems in the bag, which she could sell for coin if she desperately needed to. At the bottom of the bag, her hand wrapped around something that made her heart stop. 

In her hand, she held a small straw doll. The doll wore a small blue dress, had large button eyes, and some yarn pigtail. Her heart clenched and all the pain she had been ignoring broke out like a rush of water destroying a dam. Tears streamed down her face, and wouldn’t stop no matter how hard she wiped her eyes. She held the doll close to her chest and sniffed, closing her eyes. Horrible thoughts ran through her head. What if she never saw Lucia again? What if she thought that she abandoned her? What if Breezehome was taken away and Lucia was left on the streets again? 

A sharp knock on her door brought her out of her thoughts. She coughed to clear her throat and stood, stumbling a little. She felt herself going to the door, but she felt completely detached. It was as if she wasn’t walking at all, but just watching herself do so. She wrapped her hand around the doorknob, twisted it, and pulled the door back. Varric stood there, leaning against the door frame. 

“Well, I’m just hurt. No visit from the Herald of Andraste?” He joked and turned his head to face her. The smile immediately fell as he took in her appearance. Her red eyes somehow looked even redder, and there were obvious tear streaks on her face. He swore he could see some wetness leftover on her cheeks. “Shit, are you okay?” He glanced down at her hand, where he noticed the doll still clutched in her hand. He bit back a joke about a grown woman still playing with dolls. 

Gruumsha suddenly became aware of what was happening, and she felt her cheeks burn. A warrior didn’t cry. She whipped her eyes and nodded. She forced the frog from her throat with a cough. “Yeah,” she mumbled. “Yeah, I’m fine.” She backed up as Varric invited himself inside and closed the door. 

“What’s eating you?”

She shot him a confused look at the use of words. “What?”

He waved a hand in dismissal and folded his arms over his chest. “I know you said you’re fine, but you don’t have to lie to me. I won’t tell anyone that the mighty Herald has feelings.” He gave her a sad smile and let out a breath. He motioned to the bed, and the two of them sat down. Gruumsha cradled the doll in her hands, and he asked, “What’s with the doll?”

“It, um…” She started out, her voice rough. She sucked in a breath and tensed up a little. She had never been very good with emotions. When Lucia was still getting used to having a home, she would often have nightmares. Gruumsha stayed awake many nights making sure that the girl was okay, and many tears fell. She had gotten good at comforting her girl, but she was never any good when it came to herself. “I was going to give these things to my friends. My family.” She set the doll down and picked up the book and pendant. 

“These were for my brothers, Vilkas and Farkas. Twins. They’re not blood, but we’ve spilled enough together that they may as well be.” She replaced them in the bag then pulled out a small jar of what looked like to be paint. “Warpaint, for my sister Aela.” She showed him a dagger made of black metal. “This dagger for my… my friend, Marcurio. His needed replacement.” He raised a brow at how she needed to explain the gift to this Marcurio. “And then the doll.” She passed it over to him, and he spent a few moments examining it. “That’s for my daughter, Lucia.” 

“Daughter?” Varric tilted his head slightly at that. She didn’t seem very motherly, but now he could see it. He reminded himself of how she threw herself in front of Solas and himself during the battle at the Temple, and how she watched Cassandra’s back. How her hard look softened around children. “Is she…?” His question fell flat, and Gruumsha shook her head. 

“No, she’s alive. They are all. They’re just somewhere else, and I fear that I won’t see them again.” After a moment, she put the doll back into her pack and closed it, as if the distance would put her mind at ease. 

“I have some people like that,” Varric admitted when she didn’t speak. The orc turned to him with some curiosity. “When I was in Kirkwall, I made some really good friends. There’s Daisy, her real name is Merrill. She’s sweet, for a blood mage. Broody; Fenris,” he shot a humorous look at Gruumsha. “He’s Hawke’s sweetheart. Sebastian, the Choir-boy, and Aveline, Red. Rivaini, the pirate captain Isabella. Sunshine, Hawke’s little sister, and Waffles, Elyce Hawke herself.” He laughed softly and sighed. “My friends are spread all over Thedas. I haven’t seen them in a long time.” He paused for a moment and thought. “The point is, I know how you feel.” 

“Thank you, Varric,” she said, her eyes crinkling up in a smile. She took a deep breath and ran her fingers through her dreads. She did appreciate that he was trying to make her feel better, but she couldn’t help but think,  _ It’s not the same. You can see them if you want to.  _

“No problem, Greenbean.” He laughed when she quirked her eyebrow. “I’ll find something that works eventually, don’t worry.”

“That’s what worries me,” she laughed along with him. “Alright, I have some business I need to take care of.” The two of them stood, and she patted him on the shoulder. “You’re kind; I like you.” 

Varric snorted, and said, “Right back at you.” The dwarf left her cabin, and Gruumsha was left alone with her thoughts once again. 

* * *

“By the Eight, my feet hurt,” Marcurio grumbled as he trudged behind the lycanthrope twins.  _ Well, ex-lycanthrope,  _ he supposed. The three of them had left Whiterun days ago, leaving Aela to watch over the Companions. He was sure that was a terrible idea, but Vilkas assured him that Ria, another shield-sister, would be there to help. 

“Get used to it,” Farkas said softly. The larger man didn’t speak as much as his twin, and when he did it was very few words. Marcurio could tell the man wasn’t stupid, but he seemed to think that himself. Likely from incessant teasing from his shield-siblings, as he overheard Aela calling him “Icebrain.” 

“We won’t arrive in Windhelm for another day or so.” Vilkas glanced over at his shoulder at the mage, giving him a cold look. “You should stop complaining.”

“Couldn’t we have taken a carriage or something?” He asked as he stepped around a large boulder. The trio was hiking in the woods, which Marcurio absolutely hated. What was the point? “We could’ve been there by now.” 

“Trust me, we wouldn’t be. This is faster in the long run. We know the woods better than anyone.” Vilkas looked up past the treetops, and towards the sun. “We still have a few hours of daylight left. We can still make good time.” With that, the conversation ceased, and they continued on. 

Marcurio huffed as he adjusted the bag on his back, falling behind a few feet. He hurried to catch up with him before one of the twins said something. He quickly became bored with the scenery, and with no time to sit down and read, he turned to conversation. “So, Vilkas,” he began. “What exactly is this plan of yours? Why don’t we just go to the Greybeards or the College?” 

“Because.” When Vilkas figured that the mage would not let it go, he sighed. “The Greybeards would not speak to us, despite us being friends of the Dragonborn. We wouldn’t be allowed inside, anyways. And the College of Winterhold is useless. It’s a bunch of children playing with things they don’t understand. It is a shadow of what it was. They will be no use to us.” 

“Hey!” Marcurio pouted at the insult against mages, but Vilkas ignored him and continued to explain. 

“Do you remember when Gruum went to Solstheim?” 

“Of course I do, I was  _ there. _ I mean, not the whole time, as I wasn’t really allowed into Apocrypha, but-” 

“The point is, she made contact with Hermaeus Mora, and he owes her a favor.” 

That stopped Marcurio in his tracks. “Wait, wait. You want to speak to a Daedric Prince?  _ Willingly _ ? Oh, no, no, no. That’s not going to happen. That’s a terrible idea.”

Vilkas turned on him, sneering. “Well, do you have any better ideas? He knows everything, mage. He will know where she went, and how to get her back.” 

“Yes, he’s all-knowing because he’s stolen knowledge from poor bastards like us!” Marcurio couldn’t help but raise his voice as he waved his hands around. “He’s more likely to sap out our entire being out of our heads than help us! We can’t do this. I’m turning around and heading to Ivarstead.” Vilkas scoffed and turned around, ready to continue to Windhelm. Farkas looked between the two men worriedly. 

“Wait!” Farkas said quickly, and they turned to look at him. “Guys, come on. I mean,” he took in a breath and looked at each man. “She’d do it for us.” He set his gaze on his brother and nodded. “She  _ did  _ do it for us, Vilkas.” Then, he looked pointedly at the mage. “And you know what lengths she’d go to do something for you. We owe it to her to at least try, don’t we?” 

Vilkas blinked, surprised at his brother’s outburst. Farkas normally went along with whatever he said, and it was rare for his twin to speak out. Marcurio looked down at his feet, feeling very guilty. He was right, and Marcurio knew it. 

“Okay,” the mage finally said, sighing. “Okay, we’ll go along with Vilkas’ plan.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to calm himself down. “One condition: When we get to Solstheim, we need to track someone down. He’s a Dunmer by the name of Teldryn Sero. He and Gruumsha worked together when she was there. He’s good in a fight, and he also owes her a favor.” He laughed softly. “It seems many people are indebted to her.” 

“Deal,” Farkas agreed before Vilkas could say anything. The two men shook hands and Vilkas groaned softly. 

“Fine, we’ll get the elf. But no more complaining about your feet.” 

“Fine,” Marcurio snipped back. 

“Fine.” 

Farkas sighed softly and shook his head. “Alright, then let's get back on the road.” With no further arguments, the men continued walking. Marcurio steeled his look and tightened his hold on his bag. 

He would find her, whatever it took. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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